


it could burn out

by possibilityleft



Category: Bad Blood - Taylor Swift (Music Video)
Genre: (Actually a Trick), Extra Treat, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/pseuds/possibilityleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catastrophe knows four truths about revenge.  And she knows how to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it could burn out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintlysinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintlysinner/gifts).



> I marked this fic Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings because I felt like it was in a gray area between No Warnings and Graphic Violence. Most of the violence isn't that graphic, but there is some eye stuff (only a little), so I thought it might be more pertinent to warn here.

First: they were flashy on purpose. They weaponized femininity. They carried compacts full of powder and poison and their heels were spiked in more ways than one. The men saw the sparkle and missed the flash.

Second: it wasn't love. It could have been if they had wanted. They could have traded their real names; they could have shared a bed at night and whispered, giggled, like girls. They could have taken their time undressing each other, kissing each scar. They did not. They always fucked silently after the job, pressed up against a locker or tucked into a corner of the academy, stripping away only what was necessary.

Third: it was inevitable. Arsyn would have denied that, if Catastrophe had said so beforehand, but she always knew. Everyone in Catastrophe's life betrayed her in the end, so why would Arsyn be any different? Sex didn't make her special. And everyone in their business knew friendship was little more than currency.

Fourth: it was personal. How could it not be? Lucky sucked on her cigar and said, "Go get her." The Trinity whispered in Catastrophe's ears. They built her back better than before, and they knew what she would do with that strength. The suitcase was only an excuse.

*

"Use it," Headmistress said, passing her in the hall, and when Catastrophe finally threw her fist into Arysn's mouth, she let the punch carry her through until she was on top of Arsyn, straddling her chest. Arsyn was pulling her hair and clawing at her face and Catastrophe couldn't stop smiling at the familiar weight beneath her, pushing her fingernails into Arsyn's eye sockets. Cut Throat's knife throw went wild as one of Arysn's goons struck her. The blade slid through Catastrophe's calf in the too-easy way of a sharp knife, lodging in Arysn's gut.

They both shuddered. Arsyn's eyes went wide with shock, and then Catastrophe watched them dull. She pulled the knife out, the warm blood flooding after it. Around her, women screamed and fought. They seemed very far away.

Their mingled blood pooled onto the concrete, haloing around Arysn's hips, and Catastrophe traced a word in the dampness before curling around Arsyn and shutting her eyes.


End file.
